604,800 seconds
by poisonnwine
Summary: "One week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds. That's all it took." Spencer and Toby meet in an insane asylum, but it seems the only thing they are crazy about, is each other. Although, that is not the case. AU!
1. Chapter 1

a/n: sh i know that i haven't updated my other stories in awhile, but this is something that Rosa and Marta wanted me to create. It will be in 7 parts.

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Chapter One: Sunday

One week. Seven days. 168 hours. 10,080 minutes. 604,800 seconds.

That's all it took.

**Sunday**

She sits alone. She doesn't normally sit alone, but today she doesn't feel like sitting with anyone. She wants to be alone, even though it is dangerous. Being alone for too long leads her to the bad thoughts. When those bad thoughts come along, they don't stop. They stick to her for a long time. Sometimes so long that she needs someone to push them away for her. She used to be able to fight them on her own, but she has grown tired. Her strength was fragile and flimsy, hiding in corner, from the next battle. She knows the battle is coming, she can feel it in her veins. She knows sitting alone, sitting with herself, will only bring the battle sooner, but she doesn't want to talk. She's not in the mood to deal with all the crazies here. She wants normal. She misses her old friends. With them, the battle was easier. The helped her fight it. She doesn't understand why people would take them away from her. It isn't fair. It doesn't make sense. She resents them all for it. They took the most important people away from her. She can't survive without them. Don't they understand that? She wishes they would visit, but they haven't. She assumes her parents are the reason for this. They never want her to be happy. They do everything in their power to make her life a living hell. They want her to stay depressed. They would probably be happy if she killed herself. They would have succeeded. She can imagine it now. They would have a celebration dinner with her sister. They would throw her ashes up in the air like confetti, and burn any trace of her existence. They would be glad that there was no more shame within the Hastings family. It would be better if she wasn't around anymore.

But that wasn't good enough for them—they didn't want her dead. They wanted her to suffer. Death would give her some relief. She would finally be free. They didn't want that for her. They wanted her to live in a world of misery, dreading every breath.

That's why they sent her to this place.

It wasn't because they want her to get better. They only said that to look like they cared.

They want her to die a slow painful death. One that destroys her entirely.

"Is there anything here that is actually edible?" she hears someone say. She looks over to the direction of the voice. Sitting beside her is a boy she's never seen before, who's about her age.

She just stares at him. She sat alone for a reason. She doesn't feel like talking. She doesn't feel like listening. She doesn't feel like doing anything.

"I'm going to take that as a no," he says, almost sighing. A frown forms on his face, and the memory of her first day pops into her mind. It was terrible. She knew no one, but yet everyone felt they knew her well enough to ask why she was here. They pounded her with questions that she had no desire to answer, and when they finally left her alone, she felt more alone than ever.

"No, not really…anyways," she responds after a moment. "I mean, on Tuesdays they have mac n cheese. It's okay, I guess, that is if you get pass the undercooked noodles and watery cheese."

"Sounds delightful," he makes a face, grimacing.

"You get used to it," she shrugs.

"So, you've been here for awhile then?" he looks up at her with curious eyes. She didn't notice before, but his eyes are the brightest shade of blue she's ever seen. They light up his whole face, their sparkle casting off a million light beams. They look alive. He doesn't look like he should be in a place like this.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I haven't seen you around, is this your first day?"

He moves his chair in closer, looking more engaged in their conversation, the sheer joy in his eyes becoming more apparent. "Is it that obvious?" he asks, revealing a boyish smile.

She doesn't really react in any sort of way. She just stares at him, pondering what to say. This feels like the first real conversation she's had with anyone since before she came here. He doesn't act as if they are in an insane asylum. He acts as if they are just two people who are meeting—circumstance being excluded, and she likes that.

"I'm Spencer," she introduces herself, still unwilling to form a smile for the boy.

"Toby," he responds, smiling as if all was okay.

He just keeps smiling at her, and she doesn't know what it is, but she smiles too. It almost feels wrong to smile. It feels weird and awkward, and she bets she looks ridiculous. She hasn't smiled in a long time, she can't even remember the last time a fake smile parked on her lips, but here she is now—smiling an actual smile. She doesn't understand it, but she likes it. She likes him.

"So, what do you do around here for fun, Spencer?"

She looks around, smacking her lips together, and puffing her cheeks out. Taking in a deep breath, she shrugs. "Nothing really…" she tells him, her voice timid.

"Well, that's going to change," he leans back into his chair. He picks up a piece of a puzzle that someone left behind, and examines it. "If we are going to be stuck here, we may as well make the most of it," he throws the puzzle piece back on the table, glancing up at her after, "right?"

"There isn't much to make the most _of_, though. Just puzzles and old board games. I wouldn't call that a party."

He sits up, leaning over the table slightly, his hands pushing against the table. "You aren't looking hard enough," he whispers.

She gives him a quizzical look, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

He leans back into his seat again, becoming more relaxed. "You are only seeing what's right in front of you, real fun has to be found."

"And where might it be found?"

He shrugs, glancing around the room, "Most likely not here."

"Well, here is all you got, so I guess you need to look harder."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, he just scans around the room some more. His eyes darting from place to place, never stopping for more than 2 seconds. He looks back at her with seriousness brewing in his irises, "I think we could sneak out of here."

"Are you crazy?" she snaps.

"Well, if I wasn't, I wouldn't be here, right?" he smirks at her, the seriousness in his eyes fading away.

She smiles a little at the joke, but then frowns, "I don't want to get in trouble."

"No one _wants _to get in trouble_, _which is why we won't. We just have to be sneaky."

"Yeah, good luck with that," she murmurs, leaning back in her own chair, her arms crossing.

"Come on, Spencer. Please."

His eyes are filled with so much purity. They promise joy and relief, and she can't say no to them. "Fine," she responds, "but if you get me in trouble, then you're going to have to make it up to me."

"You worry too much," he threw his hand up. "They aren't even that great with security, it will be easy as of a piece of cake."

"Well, the pieces of cake here aren't really easy to get down, so I guess we'll see how this goes."

He smiles at her, then scans around the room again. She follows his gaze, various doctors and therapists company each table, but the doors at completely free of guard. He looks back at her, so she looks back at him. "We just have to wait for something to happen."

She gives him a strange look.

"Why do you always give me looks of absurdity when I suggest something?" he snaps, almost seeming offended.

"_Because _everything you say _is _absurd. What do you mean _something to happen?"_

"You know, someone to have some mental breakdown, or something."

"How do you know someone will have a mental breakdown, _or something?_" She asks, slightly mocking him.

He shrugs again, his shoulders bouncing up lazily, "I don't. But you know the saying, hope for the best, expect for the worst. Worst case scenario, we'll be stuck here all afternoon, best case scenario, we'll be able to sneak out."

"Yeah, well, I'm more aquatinted with the saying, hope breeds eternal misery. _I bet, _we'll be stuck here the whole afternoon."

Another smile arranged on his face, she wonders where all these smiles harvested from. How could one person possibly smile so much when placed in a place so utterly depressing. "You're on."

They sit there for awhile. Half in silence. Half in conversation.

They don't talk about why they are here. They don't talk about the bad things, instead they talk about the good things.

They talk about what they enjoy and what their hobbies are and what kind of genre of music they listen to. They don't fall into anything somber or serious. It is all silly conversation, frivolous and delightful to the ears. It is all small talk and Spencer is glad. She spends too much time here talking about the bad things, no one ever wants to talk about the good things.

While discussing their favorite movie, a shrilling scream enters their ears. A girl, about their age is yelling at the top of her lungs at some boy who sits across from her. She looks as if she wants to pounce on him, but she is restrained by two workers.

"Now!" Toby shouts softly, sprinting up from his chair, and jogging towards the door. Spencer follows behind him, looking back to make sure no one is watching. No one is.

The closer they get to the door, the quicker her heart beats. "Toby," she begins apprehensively.

"You're not backing out now, are you?" he looks back at her, holding the door open.

He lunges his hand forward, grabbing her and yanking her forward through the doorway. The door slams behind them, and they make a run for it down the hallway. She finds a smile on his face, and she swears Toby had something to do with it. For the first time since she got here, she feels free. She doesn't feel constrained by chains and locks. She finally can live.

They slow down—both out of shape and breathe—after awhile. After looking at one another, they burst out in quiet laughter. She doesn't remember the last time such a joyous noise escaped her mouth.

He lets go of her hand, and leans against a wall, crossing his arms. His smile is replaced with a sort of half smirk, "looks like I won the bet."

She half smiles, glancing at the floor, "yeah, you got lucky. So, what's next?"

"Why are you asking me?" he looks bewildered.

"It was your idea!"

He gives thought to the statement, his eyes moving to the ceiling.

"You really did think this through, did you?" she sighs, crossing her arms and shifting her weight all to one side.

"I'm sure if we look hard enough, we'll find something," he states hopefully.

"That's what you said before."

"I guess it's my catchphrase then?" he smiles at her, stepping off the wall. "Come on," he puts his hand out for her to grab, "you've already come this far."

She is hesitant to take his hand, not because she doesn't want to, but because she hasn't felt these kind of feelings in awhile, and she is not sure how to react to them. But in the end, she entwines her fingers with his, and it brings a small smile to her face.

They walk down the halls in silence. No one else has come down the hallway and they are incredibly grateful, well at least Spencer is. Spencer wonders if Toby even cares about getting caught.

They eventually embark on something that holds their attention. In front of them, resides a door, a door with a small glass window with the words _'Children's Ward' _painted across it.

Toby stops, and lets his fingers slide from the girl's lock. He stares in the window, curiosity bubbling up in his irises.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks cautiously, taking a step forward.

"I'm just looking," he says inattentively, keeping focus on the door.

He goes to knob, and to Spencer's surprise it isn't locked. He pushes the door slightly forward, the door creaking open. He keeps his hand on the knob and looks back at her, "we should go in." His eyes light up.

"What?! No way!"

"Are you scared?" he mocks, a smile playing out on his lips.

"No."

"Then let's go in."

She wraps her arms around herself, suddenly feeling exposed to the cruel world. "What if someone catches us…?" she lowers her voice.

"They won't,." He puts forth his hand for her to grab, "come on. If anyone sees us, I'll tell them it was my idea."

She stays in line with his eyes for awhile. They seem so promising—so assuring. They are so kind, and possibly the nicest thing she's ever seen. It seems impossible that they would lead her to any kind of harm.

She lets her eyes fall to his hand, and then she grabs it.

They walk in together, the door closing with the sound of a creak behind them. It is terrifying inside. The cracked windows are curtained with cobwebs and dead insects, the faded wallpaper isn't even on the wall even more, and the only light coming through came through the cracked windows.

"This was for children?" Toby ponders aloud.

"I guess so" Spencer murmurs, feeling more intrigued with the place than she did seconds prior. She let go off the boy's hand to walk over to a doll that she guesses was left behind. She crouches down to pick it up. It reminds her of one of the dolls she had when she was little. It has long brown hair and sparking mocha eyes, with smooth, porcelain skin. It is so perfect.

She doesn't know what comes over her, but she smashes it to the ground—glass scattering everywhere.

Toby is instantly hovering over her, asking if she is okay. He obviously didn't see her smash it to the floor. He puts his hand out for her to grab, and she takes it gratefully.

"What happened?" he asks, looking at the remains of the doll on the floor.

"She broke."

"Well, obviously, but how?"

"I don't know…" Spencer lies, "she just slipped from my grip. Those dolls—they're very delicate. You have to treat them with care, or they just break. I used to have one."

"Did it break?"

"Yes, but it wasn't my fault."

Toby gives her a curious look. She takes this as prompt to continue, "I used to have this friend—Alison. We would play together. She was as pretty as the doll she owned, but that didn't stop her from being jealous."

"Jealous of who?"

"Me. She broke my doll, so I broke hers. We stopped talking after that."

Toby stays quiet for a moment, and Spencer doesn't blame him. She could feel herself becoming crazy. Whenever she brushes over this subject, something tingles inside her. Craziness erupts from within her. No one ever knows how to react to it—including herself.

"Well, did you ever have a funeral for the doll?" Toby asks, his tone becoming light.

Spencer is caught off guard. Whatever she was expecting, it certainly was not that. She shakes her head.

"Well," he begins, his hand straying from hers, and his eyes scanning around the somber room with enthusiasm. He strides over to a window, and tears the curtain in half, ignoring the spider webs that coat it. "Let's have one now!" he exclaims, bringing the piece of fabric towards her.

"What?" Spencer asks, taken aback.

"You heard me," he doesn't look at her. He scoops up the broken doll pieces in the dark fabric, not worrying over the possibility of getting cut. He brooms all the shards of the doll into the fabric, and then ties it together.

"A doll funeral? _Really?_" Spencer questions. "Where would we even bury her?"

"Um," he looks around, biting his lip slightly. "Not sure. I'm sure if we look around long enough, we can find something."

"You do know where we are, right?"

He rolls his eyes , "Just come on."

They walk around the children's asylum for a little bit longer until they come across a chest. It was probably a toy chest at some point, but now it holds cobwebs and most likely rat nests. "Here will do," says Toby when he spots the chest.

"Are you actually going to open it?" Spencer shrieks, stepping beside him.

He glances from Spencer to the chest, seeming to pondering over his decision. "Yes," he decides. Spencer covers her eyes as he pulls the chest open, but luckily nothing crawls out.

"I swear to god if a rat or something came out of there, I would kill you."

"If you killed me, this place would be so boring though." He says, "come on, I bet this is the most fun you've had since you got here."

It is true. This _is _the most fun she's had since she got here, although he didn't have to know that.

He sets the pouch he had crafted gently into the chest, the cobwebs making a nest for it. "Is there anything you want to say?" he looks at her, expectantly.

She gives him a look, "It's a _doll_."

"That doesn't mean you have to be mean," Toby tells her before staring back at the doll. "I know I never knew you," he speaks to the doll that used to be. "But, nevertheless, it has been a privilege being your funeral director. I know that the coffin is not the best, and I know that you rather be wrapped in silk, but hey, I'm doing the best I can do on these circumstances. Rest in peace, and when you get to doll heaven, tell that Barbie I stepped on when I was thirteen that I'm sorry."

He looks at Spencer now, urging her to make her eulogy.

Spencer feels ridiculous. It is a _doll_, but she begins, nonetheless. "I may have only known you for a few seconds, but I bet you were a little girl's best friend. I know my doll was." She glances at Toby, and he is nodding for her to continue. She takes in a breath, "You were a lot like the doll I had. Brown curly hair, brown eyes, pale skin. You could be sisters—that is if dolls _had _sisters. Anyways, I'm sure you made a little girl very happy. Rest in peace."

She glanced over at Toby again, and he nodded swiftly, taking a step back from the old toy chest. Spencer took in a deep breath, and closed the toy chest, whispering a goodbye under her lips.

After the doll funeral, the two decided it was probably a good idea to head back to the day room. Someone _had _to notice they had gone out. Although, when they returned, no one said anything. No one noticed. They were safe.


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: Hello all! I would like to thank you all for the support. I'm very glad have readers. It warms my heart that you think it is good enough for your time. Someone asked why Spencer is here, and you're going to just have to wait. ;) or pay attention, and try to come up with little theories. You will know everything by the 7th day. This chapter is short, but some of them are going to be like that and some of them are going to be LONG. ~inconsistency for the win~

ok bye. HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

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**Monday**

She hasn't seen him once this morning and she worries that he has left already. Maybe he was just here for a psych evaluation, usually they last longer, but maybe they changed the procedure. It occurs to her that she could ask someone, but whenever she does ask, they always get mad and manage to send her friend to a different wing of the mental institution. She doesn't understand why. What is wrong with her making friends? It seems cruel to take away the only people that she can really talk to, the ones who really care. She presumes it is under her parents doing. They probably had told the nurses and doctors and psychiatrists to ban her of any personal interactions. When Spencer gets out of here, they don't want her connected in any way, shape, or form with it, i.e. keeping in touch with any former inmates.

Spencer sometimes wonders what her parents tell people. They probably lie and say she is off at some boarding school in London. They had told her once when she was little that she could go there when she grew up. Spencer frets now that it was just because they wanted to get rid of her. But, with time, their hate for her grew, and they wouldn't dare send her anywhere she _wanted _to go. They would send her somewhere awful, somewhere no one would want to be—here.

She wishes she could just run away, run from all this—from her parents, from her psychiatrists, from all the pain that aches in her body. The only thing that she would miss would be Toby. Sure, she's known him for a day, but that day was easily the best day she's had since she was a child. He understood her like no one ever had in her lifetime. He treated her like she was a human being—not a porcelain doll, not a mental patient, not a disappointment—but a human being. She thought she would never be treated that way again.

When they came back from the children's ward, they just sat and talked for hours end until they were sent to bed.

She tries to let the thought pass her, but it doesn't seem to fade. She really hopes that he hasn't gone away, even if it is selfish, she needs another day with him.

She sighs, glancing at her jagged nude nails. It was a habit she has had forever. Alison would always get mad at her because she would always ruin the masterpiece her friend painted. Spencer can't remember the last time a smear of paint touched her nail beds. Most likely before Alison went away. Spencer never painted her nails; it was always Alison who did It for her.

Spencer glances away from her nails, feeling uneasy.

Then she spots him.

She sees the mop of hair piled on his hair, and his tall and brawny figure in the lunch line. Her heart nearly skips a beat at the sight. She is so sure it is him, but when he turns around, it is just another inmate of hers she has known forever.

Spencer sighs, wrapping her arms around her body, feeling she might fall apart if she wasn't already broken.

Someone sits down in front of her and unfortunately it is not Toby Cavanaugh, but her psych—always keeping a close eye on her, as usual.

"Hello, Spencer."

"Hi, Dr. Sullivan."

"How are you today?"

Spencer shrugs. She used to lie and say fine, but those were the olden days when everything was much simpler. It was before she got sent to a psych ward.

"Why just a shrug?" she inquires.

Spencer shrugs again. She knows it is not the answer Dr. Sullivan is searching for, but Spencer hopes it will just prompt her to go away.

"I see," she notes, nodding her head slowly. "Well, a friend of yours has stopped by."

Spencer darts her eyes up. She hopes that maybe it is Toby. Maybe he is saying goodbye. Her other friends can't stop by—her parents foreboded it. Who else could it be?

Dr. Sullivan takes out a package and slides it across the table. Spencer sighs. Of course it is just a package. Why did she get her hopes up? Whenever Dr. Sullivan says, "a friend of yours has stopped by," she gives her a package. She can't believe she let herself be so stupid.

"I'm sorry to say I have already opened it, but you know the policy…"

Spencer debates on even touching the wrapping. She knows who it is from—Mona Vanderwaal. The girl is indeed not her friend. She had basically driven her out of school. She sends cookies and 'encouraging' cards every now and then to mock her. She is the only one, besides her friends that knew where she was going when she was sent away. But Spencer presumes that the second she left was the second Mona began to gossip.

But she opens it anyways, out of her own curiosity. Like always, it is just a card, and a homemade big cookie. Spencer rolls her eyes as she flips the card open.

"To Spencer,

I surely do miss you! I hope you come back soon. I wish I could visit, but my parents—your parents, everyone mostly, think it isn't a good idea. I hope you've found someone to hang out with.

Your BFF,

Mona."

Ha! BFF. Mona always signs it like that—always looking so sweet. It disgusts Spencer. She was anything but.

"Isn't that nice of her? Do you want to write back?"

Spencer shakes her head, setting the card down, "that is the thing I would least like to do."

Her psych sighs, and pulls the card away from her, examining it. She doesn't say anything, and Spencer is glad. Usually she nags her more about it, but maybe she finally gave it up.

Spencer retrieves the cookie from the package, and unwraps it from the plastic. She may be a bitch, but she can sure as hell bake.

X

It is later that day, almost the evening when her heart doubles its speed. She once again sees the outline of a boy that is like the boy's she had met the day before. Brawny, tall, muscular. It makes her heart swell with anticipation as she waits for him to turn around from the dinner line.

Her heart surely skips a beat this time when she sees his face and those sapphire blue eyes that guide as her light. When he sees her, he smiles—that sheepish boy grin that makes her stomach do hurdles. He comes toward her, and takes a seat next to her.

He smiles her way, "I'm _really _glad you're here, and not eating in your room or something."

Spencer takes the thought into account. She was so close to eating in her room today, but something inside her told her to eat in the dining room. She is so very glad that for once her gut was right.

Spencer excuses the smile off her face, feeling incredibly foolish. He must think she is such a kook. "Where have you been?" she asks, not bothering to ease into the subject.

He sighs, "I had a meeting with my psych. She gave me the tour of the place."

"You didn't do that yesterday?"

"I was with you the whole day, wasn't I?" he smirked, picking up his spoon and scooping up the tomato soup into his mouth.

"But usually—"

"Usually they give you the tour on the first day?" he smiles again, setting the spoon down and rubbing his mouth with a napkin. "Yeah, that's what she said too, but she was busy. Anyways, I'm kind of glad. Seeing you freak out was much more exciting than some tour."

"Hey!" she exclaims, her eyebrows drawing in a little, and her hand hitting his arm, "I did not _freak out."_

He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine…" she ducks her head down, "maybe just a little." She mumbles.

He chuckles, shaking his head and continues eating his soup.

"But don't act like you weren't creeped out too!"

"Yeah, I was a little creeped out, but you know what creeps me out more? This tomato soup. What the hell do they put in it? Anthrax?"

"Yeah, probably should have warned you about that. It's not their best feature."

"But is anything?"

"Not really."

He glances at the plate in front of her. It is occupied with various veggies and fruits, sided with a roll. "Can I have some of yours?" he pleads, pouting.

Even if Spencer wanted to savage all the food to herself, she knows it would be equivalent to swimming across the ocean—impossible. "Fine," she murmurs, pushing her plate a little bit towards him, "but don't be making a habit out of it."

He shoots an appreciative smile at her, that kind of smile that always makes her feel giddy and idiotic, and takes a carrot off her plate.

"So are you a vegetarian or something?" he inquires.

"Nah, just don't like being food poisoned," she smiles at him, hoping he'll realize she is just kidding. Although she doesn't doubt that some of this food has the power.

His smile stretches out some more, a tiny laugh flowing out of his mouth. He takes another carrot of her plate, which prompts her to mock him, "are you a rabbit or something?"

He chuckles, chewing the carrot with a vibrance alluring in his oceanic eyes.

"So, you'll be here tomorrow…right?" she inquires after a moment. She doesn't want to seem clingy or anything, but she knows that she would get no sleep tonight if she did not have an answer. She will be able to rest easy, knowing he'll be here tomorrow.

He nods, "that's the plan."

She wants to ask him why he is here. Before she didn't really want to know—but her natural curiosity has caught up with her. She bites her tongue though, not wanting to seem nosy. It is practically her trademark, and she hates it. She doesn't want Toby to think she's too pushy. She doesn't want him to go away. He is the closest thing she has to a friend.

They spend the rest of the evening in each other's company. Eventually they must depart from one another and return to their rooms, but neither worry because tomorrow they'll be able to spend the whole day together.

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a/n: sorry for not much of spoby in this chapter, promise there will be some in the next 3 leave me a review please :) it will be my treat for the day...hehe


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